


Ware the Wolf

by JaqofSpades



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Community: wishlist_fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:51:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaqofSpades/pseuds/JaqofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of her boys is probably out there somewhere dressed up in tights and a jerkin, but let's face it - it isn't the Huntsman who gets to gobble up the bitchy little blonde.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ware the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: written for elegantfaery for wishlist_fic, to the prompt “It's Halloween in Neptune and Lamb decides arrest Veronica to prevent her from committing any 'crimes.' This backfires him when he sees her sexy-not-made-for-jail costume.” 
> 
> A/N 2: set at some point during Season 3's President Evil.

He loves Halloween, when the good folk of Neptune decide to show off what's lurking inside. It's his job to know their secrets, and he works hard to figure them out, so it's a treat when even the smartest, most guarded people spill their hand.

Take Veronica Mars. The bane of his days hides behind ice and barbed wire, her facade so jagged that he's mostly forgotten the sweet little girl with a big crush. Mostly, because she's just stalked into the station wrapped in a red cloak and carrying a basket, her long, blonde braids tied with a jaunty bow. She used to wear them like that when she was ten, and twelve, and on the odd occasion, fourteen. (Not sixteen. Like everyone else, he wants to forget sixteen.)

She's Little Red Riding Hood, and his cock stands to attention, because one minute she's wrapped in red, and the next, the cloak parts to reveal a tiny little dress cut low over milk-white breasts and high enough that he can see a garter peeking out from under layers of ruffles that pass for a skirt.

"Why, what a big hate-on you've got, Sheriff," he says under his breath, and snarls as she bangs on the counter.

"Deputy! Look at you, all dressed up in your Sheriff costume," she coos, and he contemplates handcuffing her to the rail she's tapping that impudent little foot on. The image doesn't help his not-so-little problem, but he rises from behind his desk anyway. She's all grown up now. Time she knew what she was dealing with.

"All the better to fuck you and your Daddy issues with," he says, coming round the counter to drop the threat straight into her ear. She blinks twice, her version of shock, and the victory feels so fucking good he pushes closer until his cock is nudging happily at the curve of her waist. He's waiting for a slap, or the crackle of her taser, but she just stands there, mouth gaping. 

"Wolf got your tongue, Little Red?" he asks, and the place is deserted, so he slides one hand up under all those flounces, straight to the length of silky thigh above the garter belt holding up those sheer black stockings.

Her words start to tumble out in a desperate stream, but he doesn't really catch what she's saying because he he's just discovered satin panties. They can only be red or black to match this get up and he's just made it his new mission to find out.

"I need to see Weevil!" she repeats, and he tries not to smile because she's just so fucking predictable. They'd solved the caper, he'd let the punk go, and not even 24 hours later he'd managed to find a few old tickets to pull him in again. No better way to get Veronica Mars to show. 

Hadn't been expecting Red Riding Hood, though. One of her boys is probably out there somewhere dressed in tights and a jerkin, but let's face it - it isn't the Huntsman who gets to gobble up the bitchy little blonde. And he knows exactly who she thinks is Neptune's Big Bad Wolf.

So maybe she's here to see her bit of rough. But maybe not.

*

"Some nurse's uniform," the punk hoots, his voice so full of admiration that Don feels like kicking him. He wouldn't waste jealousy on Veronica Mars, but really. The girl doesn't need to know just how good she looks.

"Gotta keep the element of surprise," she says, and he doesn't miss the quaver in her voice. Nor does Navarro, his grin vanishing as both hands rise to grip the bars, muscles bunching like a bull at a gate. 

"V? You okay? What'd that prick Echolls do now?"

Apparently, Navarro's sterling leap in logic has just saved his bacon, because Veronica's chin has come up, and he doesn't have to see her face to know her eyes are blazing. She might still drop him in it - technically, he's guilty of sexual harassment at least - but Don knows she's happier on the attack. And Navarro's about to get both barrels.

"Logan? What did Logan do now? Oh, nothing, Weevil. Except be a massively supportive boyfriend, trying to make it up to me after our Halloween party was ruined last night. So, we've been trick or treating, and then I get a call from you, and you're BACK in lockup, because. apparently, my date nights can never go smoothly."

Weevil smirks - kid has a death wish - and shrugs theatrically, making it very obvious how much he loves the idea of interrupting her date.

"Sorry. Figured you owed me one after the last time I was in here. You remember ... I was falsely accused?"

Don doesn't even try to stop the smile spreading across his face and sits back to watch Veronica scramble a little.

"Oh. Yeah .. sorr ... Hey! I said I was sorry about that. It was an honest mistake. And now you're holding it against me?"

"Yup. Wanted to see you grovel some more. I deserve it. Though ... bend over in that dress and maybe we'll call it quits."

His estimation of Navarro has just shot up to fucking genius as he laughs aloud, then unhitches a cell key from his keyring, and tosses it a few feet away from the fuming blonde.

"You're free to go, Navarro. Those tickets have mysteriously vanished. Miss Mars can let you out of there ... I'm kind of busy over here," he said, tilting his head to study the impudent line of her skirt.

Her eyebrows are lost somewhere in her hairline as she looks from him to Navarro and back to him. Her mouth closes with a snap and he sees the moment steely determination replaces disbelief. "You're both a pair of pigs. And you know what pigs deserve? To roast slowly in their own mess." 

She takes three small steps towards the key, her skirt swaying with each move of her body, then turns to look back at them, eyes narrow with spite as she folds her arms under her breasts, forcing them to try to leap out of the lacy bodice. Satisfied that they are appropriately cross-eyed, she blows them each a kiss, then bends to pick up the key.

Don can't hold back his grunt of shock. He had expected her to scoop it up like lightning, or drop to the floor completely in order to save her modesty. Instead, she bends slowly, legs straight, her frothy skirts tipping skyward to frame her ass in a riot of red and black, the finest artwork he's ever seen. 

Red panties, Don thinks dazedly, and forces himself to refocus, because she's not finished yet. She plucks the key from the floor with a showy flourish and straightens slowly, running it up over her shin, and her knee, and then her thigh, tapping it there as she stands proudly in front of them.

"Enjoy that?" she asks sweetly, and he doesn't have the faculties left to lie.

"Oh yeah," he says slowly, and forces himself to splay back in his chair, all the better to display the raging erection she has caused.

"V," is all Navarro can choke out, and Don finds it vaguely comforting that he's not the only one felled by lust.

But it's Veronica Mars, and she has to have the last word.

"You know, if you'd asked me nicely? I might have given you a real show," she says with a shrug, and flounces off. They watch her go, completely mute, until Navarro begins to chuckle.

"What? You think you're gonna get a private showing later?"

Navarro just smirks at him. "She'll be back."

He'd like to know how the kid is so goddamn sure, but Veronica Mars has already fried his brain twice tonight, and he needs to stop thinking about her. It's verging on pathetic.

"Unlikely. If I were you, I'd be figuring out how to make bail, since your one phone call didn't pan out so well."

Navarro flips him the bird, then stretches out on the bunk, grinning at the ceiling like an idiot. 

*

She's writhing in his lap, red satin panties discarded in a heap on the floor, nipples distended from all the quality time they've been spending with his mouth and fingers. His pants are open, cock poking up through his boxers, soaked in her juices. She's sliding up and down, up and down, then hovering over, never quite taking him in ....

She needs to fuck him, now, but there's an odd noise somewhere, a jangling and a muffled "sssh" and that's not right, because he wants her to be loud, to scream for him, and ssshhh isn't going to cut it. He wants to hear her beg him, to say his name, not Deputy, not Lamb, he wants her to say "Don", and "please", and "fuck me hard."

"Wonder who he's dreaming about?" he hears instead, and what the fuck is Navarro doing in his dream anyway? He opens his eyes to see Little Red Riding Hood working the key in the lock of Navarro's cell. She's having some trouble, and he has to smile, because how dumb does she think he is? That key never fitted that lock. 

He wanted to see if she'd do it, bend over and display herself for a lousy key, but it didn't mean he was going to trust her. He'd simply put the ball in her court, and sure enough, she'd run with it. And now he's caught her in the commission of an offence, and he has every right to lock her up.

And he will. Eventually.

He slams up behind her, pushing her into the bars, spreadeagling her with more finesse than he's ever shown any other perp.

"Miss Mars! Trying to help a felon escape?" he growls, hands already patting her down (a knife, perhaps, between those pert little tits, or a gun, snug against her silky, bare thigh, he thinks delightedly, fingers wandering where they will. Sheriff Lamb is remarkably thorough).

She is free of weapons but he cuffs her hands behind her back anyway, and frogmarches her into the other holding cell, showily withdrawing the key from Navarro's lock to open the one next door.

They groan in sync, and he's hard again, because the sound is so similar to the one she was making in his wet dream just minutes ago. He can't breath suddenly, his nerves jangling with adrenaline, and then it hits him he's about to do something colossally stupid. Suicidal, in fact. And since nothing's going to stop him, he needs to increase his odds as much as he can.

He pushes her towards the cot, tearing his hands away from her as he barks at Navarro. "Let's go, kid."

"What?"

"Said you were free to go an hour ago. " He unlocks the cell and holds it open impatiently. "Get gone or I book you for public nuisance and unpaid traffic fines."

"Veronica?"

Her voice is shockingly quiet from the neighbouring cell, without even the faintest hint of apprehension. "Go, Weevil. You can't afford the fines, I know that."

"Ain't just leaving you here!"

"Go home, chico. Lamb's probably gonna make me write 'Sheriff Lamb is smarter than me' on the wall of the cell fifty times, and take a picture. I'll call you when detention's over."

"You do that!" the kid grumbles, and then slopes off, looking back worriedly. Don follows him out to return the contents of his pockets, and then watches him leave. The minute he is alone in the station - except for one nosy blonde - he crosses to the security console, and disables every camera in the building.

Then he grabs a strip of condoms from his desk drawer, and heads back towards the cells.

*

She sits like a queen, back perfectly straight and knees and ankles in line, even though her hands are still cuffed behind her back. Haughty, even in a jail cell, and it should make him feel ashamed.

It doesn't. He can't figure out whether it leaves him more enraged, or aroused. Not that it matters. The Big Bad Wolf can work with both.

"Why'd you lie to Navarro?"

She tilts her head as if considering the question, then smiles frostily. 

"Maybe I didn't. Maybe I do think you'll settle for public humiliation."

There's a strange note in her voice, and he wants to ask what the hell she's playing at, because she knows exactly what he wants. He's made it clear he's the bad guy, even if she isn't living up to her role as the blushing virgin. He's got no intention of letting her sugarcoat this encounter, because they're Veronica Mars and Don Lamb. Neither of them want to play nice.

"Depends. How humiliated will you be when I shove my cock down your throat? Or ..." he steps a little closer, bracketing her knees between his legs, "make you come all over my face?"

Her eyes are as cold as flint, but the pulse at the base of her throat is fluttering wildly as she answers him.

"Why, what a big ego you have, Deputy Lamb," she says scornfully, and it would have been convincing, it really would, if he didn't have one hand up her skirt, tracing the line of her through red satin panties, delicate lips and damp slit and that bold little pearl, already plump and standing to attention. 

"It's not my ego that plans to fuck you raw, Miss Mars," he growls into her ear as he drops down to tug her panties off before nosing her knees apart. He loses his head for a moment, dizzy with the smell of her, and desperate for a taste. His tongue laves her slowly, then suckles, intent on finding every hidden fold in that glorious landscape. It's not until her moans are echoing in his ears that he realises he has become more ardent swain than predatory wolf, and backs away with one last suck at her quivering clit.

"Up. On your feet Mars."

She blinks at him dazedly, then struggles to the edge of the cot, wobbling on shaky legs. Her lust blown eyes shoot daggers as he fishes in his pocket to find the roll of condoms, throwing them on the bed beside her.

"Make it worth my while, little girl."

"Oh! So _that's_ what this is about," she says with a fake giggle, but her hands are already busy unbuckling him, unzipping and stroking with surprising enthusiasm. "How long, exactly, have you wanted to fuck me, Deputy? Figure you might as well do it before you can't pretend I'm a kid anymore?"

"Not like I didn't have plenty of chances if I was into that," he reminds her sourly, fighting the urge to close his eyes as her mouth engulfs him. "Think I didn't see you goggling at me with those big eyes? Nah. You didn't do a damn thing for me until you lost some of that innocence."

That confession earns him a vicious rake of her nails, trails of agony slicing across both buttocks. His hands tighten in her hair, but he can't retaliate. He's thinking about that broken angel, white dress and white face and black eye makeup smeared all over. The trust she had placed in him, to do something, to make it better, and his complete and utter inability to help her, because of who she was.

The 09ers ran this town, and he was just their puppet. Everyone in Neptune had to figure it out sooner or later - and the Mars family never did things the easy way.

He wonders if that's why she's on her knees now. Is this an elaborate plan to screw him over, or is it herself she's trying to fool? Is she doing it to spite her Daddy, or her boyfriend, or is it just a 'fuck you' to life in general? There's certainly nothing healthy about it - if he was a good man, he'd be worried about a good girl, on her knees, sucking off a man she hates.

But he's not. He's the wolf, and he's gonna enjoy every minute of this, right up until Red Riding Hood learns to swallow.

*

She sneers at him as he wipes the sweat away from his brow, and he wants to tell her not to look so smug. Sure, he shouted her name when he came - all four syllables of it - but she doesn't need to look as if she's cracked a case. It's just an orgasm, Veronica, he thinks, and tries to ignore the creeping tenderness building between them.

He wants to lay her down, and slide his tongue over every inch of her body. He wants to undress her slowly and tease her until she begs for him. He wants to fuck her so gently she cries, and hold her afterwards.

Instead he yanks her bodice down so he can play with her nipples, sucking and biting on them until she cries out. He makes her ride his fingers, four digits deep inside while his thumb rubs furiously at her clit, and then stops every time she approaches her peak.

"Want me to fuck you, Veronica?" he asks each time, and it's not until she moans something in the affirmative that he actually rolls on a condom.

But he's got something else he needs to hear first.

"Beg me."

Her moan is more of protest, but he's working her up again and she hasn't come yet and her entire body is quivering with the need for release.

"Please, Lamb!" she gasps, and he rewards her with a bite that nearly sends her into convulsions, but ...

"Please, who?"

"Please, Don! Please ... you fucking bastard. God. Please. Sheriff Lamb." she yells. "PleaseSheriff, pleaseSheriff, please ...."

He spins her around and slams into her from behind, burying himself deep in one brutal thrust. He wants to fuck her, hard and long and forfuckingever, but it's not going to happen because she's rippling around him and it's indescribable, how good this feels. He grinds his fingers against her pubis and prays this is the orgasm she's been chasing, because his brains are about to blow out of his cock again, and it's not fucking fair that she can do this to him.

It's never been fucking fair, because she had all the weapons and all he had was a big, shiny badge that he never really deserved. He's been the wolf ever since she walked into his office, crying, and he couldn't do a goddamn thing to help.

Most days, he likes it, being completely free of morals and delusions of decency, and when regret does come knocking, he slaps it away. Good people get chewed up in this town, and Sheriff Don Lamb isn't gonna be prey, ever again.

He hands her the red satin panties, and watches her watching him as she slides them back up her legs. There's no sign of the passionate girl she was just minutes ago, blue-green eyes already calculating and remote.

"So. The next time I need a favour ...." she starts, and he almost traps himself in his zipper in shock. 

"A favour?"

Her smile is catlike, and maybe that's what has had him fooled for so long. 

"What, you think I did this because I wanted to? _Deputy_."

He's a trained investigator, and he should be able to tell when she's lying. Either he can't, or he just doesn't want to. Doesn't really matter, he tells himself. One thing he does know?

He has created another wolf. 

_fin_

 

Disclaimer: This fanfiction was written for personal enjoyment rather than profit. No infringement on the rights of the intellectual property owners is intended.


End file.
